The Lies We Weave

“How do you reckon he’s going to be?” Liam asks no one in particular. He’s lounging on the giant couch in front of the home entertainment system in their ‘Big Brother flat’, as they came to call it. It in fact is an a maisonette with three bedrooms and a bathroom with a tub on the upper floor and one en suite bedroom, a guest toilet, a walk in coat closet and a kitchen living room combination on the lower floor. They tended to meet up about one week – two weeks this time – before tour to go over the dates, a schedule of sorts and do pre tour interviews et cetera. At the moment, all five of them are in the living room watching the telly and talking.

“He looks like a dick.” Louis groans. Niall throws a shoe at him which he barely ducks, “Hey, what was that for?”

“I’m sure he’s not a dick. I mean, he can’t be that bad judging by how he was dressed.” Niall defends the tour manager.

“You just say that ‘cause you think he’s hot.” laughs the brunette.

Niall gives an indignant huff before answering, “I don’t,” like a pouting 5 year old, “and even if I did, I wouldn't date you anyways even if you were my type, so I don’t see why you care.”

“Guys, drop it.” Liam groans. He shouldn’t have asked, with Louis and Niall recently bickering even more so than usual. He doesn't know why exactly, but something to do with Harry always is as good a guess as any.

“Leave Niall alone, Louis.” the boy in question says as he plops down next to Louis, who is currently leafing through a fashion catalogue, “But you know, he’s right. The manager guy is exactly your type, Niall.”

“Is not…” mumbles a blushing Niall, trying to hide his face behind the book he is currently reading.

“He is. And think about it, he’s a bit older than you, he is hot – I’m going to admit that right here – and he did smile at you a lot more than at us.” Harry gets up again and sits on the edge of the blonde’s armchair, “come on, you have to admit that he’s quite fine.“ he elbows the Irish boy lightly while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Leave the poor boy alone, Styles.” Zayn laughs from the other end of the room.

“No, but really. What do you think of him?” Harry asks again.

“Fine, fine. If you’ll leave me alone then yeah. Yeah, he is hot, I mean. Totally even. I mean- Just- Wow.“ the blonde blushes furiously at the somewhat forced confession. Why did he just say that? It's not like he sports a stupid crush for a guy he met a few hours ago. Harry knew him too well.
“See!” Harry grins, “He’s Irish too, judging by the name, so you’d even have something in common.” Feeling accomplished for now, he walks back towards Louis’ and his couch and flops down, pulling Louis' legs on his lap in the process.

“Actually just half Irish.” comes an unfamiliar voice from the doorway. Niall’s eyes snap up and what he sees makes his mouth go dry and his cheeks heat up. There, in all his tattooed, slightly homeless looking glory, stands their tour manager Cieran.

Notes

So. Luckily the network wasn't working yesterday evening, or I wouldn't have proof read this, which I admit was really really neccessary. I should stop writing when I'm high. Seriously though.

Well, what do you think? Any pairing wishes? You know, if you don't tell me what you want, I'll just do what I want. Well, let's have creepy Harry faces: